The Transfiguration Room Balcony
by MandyJane
Summary: Katie and Oliver have an interesting evening after she recieves a mysterious note...KBOW fluffy oneshot.


**A/N - WOW I've uploaded sooo much stuff today! Mostly oneshots, but still...this is the last for now. A little story about Katie & Oliver, joy of joys! I hope you like it...Oh, I don't own Harry Potter. But if JK is offering...no? Oh alright then.**

It's never going to happen.

That's a really depressing thing to realise at the tender age of sixteen. I'm never going to have that perfect moment with the guy I'm in love with because he's bloody well leaving this year, and the year ends in two weeks. I don't think he even knows my first name; the prat only calls me 'Bell' or 'That bloody idiot', but only when I drop the Quaffle. Which is more often nowadays, but you can't expect a heartbroken player to be doing her best on the field, really. Not that Oliver notices, all he can think about is leaving and trialling for Puddlemere United as soon as he can. Prat.

But he should notice, that's what's bugging me. It isn't as if I'm being all coy about it like Hermione and Ron are – I flirt blatantly with him _all_ the time, I sit _far_ too close to him in the common room. I outright asked him to Hogsmeade one day and he invited the rest of the team and talked tactics all the time. And he gave me the credit for organising the extra meeting, so everyone glared at me for the rest of the day because I made them miss their afternoons. The nerve of that boy! Not that he really is a boy, being eighteen and all. But even then he's more Quidditch-robot than boy. He really _is _an idiot. A mean, pathetic, blind, going-out-with-a-sixth-year-Ravenclaw idiot. I hate him. And now he's coming over here.

Well, _that _was weird. Mr Prat just wandered over aimlessly (blatantly something is wrong, Oliver always has an aim) and handed me this note:

**Bell,**

**Be on the Transfiguration Balcony (the fifth floor one) at 2am tonight – very important that you aren't late. Don't start arguing, just do it this time.**

**Oliver**

TWO IN THE FREAKING MORNING. DOES HE THINK I HAVE A TIME TURNER? I NEED MY SLEEP.

But I will be there, because it's Oliver. Also, if I'm not, he might kill me. And who knows – this _could _be a confession of his love for me in an incredibly romantic setting. Or an extra quidditch practice. Probably and extra quidditch practice.

Okay, I'm going to the balcony. I'm not entirely sure what for, so I'm just wearing jeans and an old hoody with trainers, but I shan't take Quidditch robes because IT'S TWO IN THE FREAKING MORNING. This guy is crazy. Why do I like him again?

Oh. My. God.

Wow.

Just wow.

I'm going to set this down in words so that I don't start screaming in the middle of my dorm room at four am. The others would probably kill me for that. I don't think I'd care at the moment though!

Okay, deep breath. Let's go.

So I headed to the balcony, 2am on the dot. And I got out there, and it's bloody freezing, like icicles IN MY SOUL. Well maybe not that cold, but very nearly. And guess what happens? He doesn't show up for fifteen minutes. I know! And I couldn't get out because the door jammed! Actually, I didn't try it, but I thought it had jammed. But anyway, he FINALLY shows up, ON A BROOMSTICK, hair ruffling effortlessly in the wind, and looks at me and he said

"Well get on then"

I was gobsmacked, and I nearly smacked his gob for it. But he had this slightly-freaked-out look on his face so I climbed up anyway and we started flying away pretty slowly, right to the top of the castle, over the East Garden. And while we're sitting up here in the freezing cold he twists around to me a little and talks again:

"I broke up with Anna, by the way"

My teeth are chattering so much at this point that I can't reply, so when he leans a bit closer I got a leetle scared and _may_ have jerked back in surprise, causing us to lose our balance. Then OLIVER grabbed my waist with both hands and planted a bog one on me. In mid air. And it was lovely, but would have been way better if we weren't FALLING TO OUR DEATHS BECAUSE HE LET GO OF THE BLOODY BROOMSTICK. I repeat, PRAT.

But we weren't so very high up, so we crawled out of the bushes with nothing more than hurt dignity, apart from a pretty spectacular slash on my right arm. Oliver immediately started obsessing about that, but I got his attention away from it….with my mouth. And _that_ was definitely fun.

And he walked me back up to my dorm.

Holding my hand.

And when we got to the staircases, he kissed me goodnight.

And then I kissed him goodnight.

And then he kissed me goodnight.

And then we kissed each other goodnight for a while on the sofa by the fire.

But then I had to come up and get some sleep before my lips fell off, and here you find me scribbling away before I forget a single detail. Quidditch practice at 5 this morning – half an hour away. I wonder how Oliver would feel about a bit of private coaching beforehand….


End file.
